


Bukowski

by pogopop



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Charles Bukowski, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 22:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pogopop/pseuds/pogopop
Summary: Matt was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his socks and his tie when his phone beeped with a text message from Foggy:'Each night counts for something or else we’d all go mad.'Matt frowned, and held up his phone to dictate a response. “Fog. It’s too early to be that cryptic.”Or, everyone ribs Matt with Bukowski quotes.





	Bukowski

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brandywine421](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/gifts).

> Prompt: "Each night counts for something or else we'd all go mad," by Charles Bukowski. 
> 
> I found so many quotes that applied to Matt, and this is what came out. 
> 
> Many thanks to BeaArthurPendragon for the beta read.
> 
> This also fills the 'Innocent until proven guilty' square on my daredevilbingo card.

Matt was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his socks and his tie when his phone beeped with a text message from Foggy:

**Each night counts for something or else we’d all go mad.**

Matt frowned, and held up his phone to dictate a response. “Fog. It’s too early to be that cryptic.” He placed the phone beside him and reached down to pick up a shoe, groaning quietly.

Foggy’s reply was swift: 

**It’s not early, you’re just late. I’ve been watching the video of DD from last night. Are you okay?**

Matt finished tying his shoes, and shrugged on his suit jacket before dictating his next text. “Yes, mom. I’ll see you soon.” He checked the time. He was only a little late, and last night’s video can’t have been that dramatic.

**That’s unlikely, my dude. And did you forget Bukowski?**

Matt had. He paused to do a quick internet search, and opened a new note in his phone. Then he straightened his tie and went to face the day.

**_____**

The next week, when Matt was once again late, it was this:

**Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.**

**Are you going to make it? **

**I need you today.**

Matt was in a coffee shop, waiting for the triple order they would all need to get them started on the last day of pre-trial preparation. He didn’t bother replying, just sighed and collected his order then walked the short distance to the office. It had been a not-insignificant period of time since his last serious injury. He was keeping it together.

Matt wove between the towers of boxes, placing Karen’s coffee in the middle of her desk, then knocked on Foggy’s office door. Foggy’s head lifted, and he sprang out of his chair with a cry of, “Coffee!”

Matt leaned against the doorframe and nursed his own cup. “Where’s Karen?” 

“Picking up those photos.”

Matt hummed in response, taking a sip of coffee. Foggy wandered back to his desk and plopped down in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think Ms Zhang feels okay about tomorrow?” Foggy asked. 

Matt nodded. “I offered to pick her up, walk with her to the courthouse.”

“She lives literally nowhere near you.”

“Ah,” Matt said, “But she doesn’t know that.”

“You do you, buddy. Just get her there on time.” Foggy’s head bent to the desk in front of him, his hands shuffling papers. He sighed again. Behind Matt, the door swung open and Karen stalked in. She must have spied the coffee immediately, because she headed straight for her desk, dropping a thick envelope and scooping up her coffee cup with a sigh of happiness. She came over to join Matt, touching him on the arm in greeting as he smiled at her.

“Come on, Fog. We’re going to kill it tomorrow. We’re prepared. You can be happy.”

Foggy slowly raised a hand, pointing his pen at Matt and in a deep voice intoned, “We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.”

“What?” asked Karen.

Matt shook his head. “He’s on a Charles Bukowski kick,” he said.

Karen made a noise of comprehension, turning her head between Matt and Foggy. “Ohhhh,” she said. “Oh yeah, he’s perfect.”

“I know, right?” Foggy cried, gesticulating wildly. 

“What?” Matt asked.

“He’s like your… depressed Fairy Godmother.”

Matt downed the last of his coffee. “I’ve got work to do.” He walked to his office and firmly shut the door on the sounds of laughter.

**_____**

Maggie really did make neat stitches, her fingers moving nimbly. Matt wondered if she’d learned before Jack. Maybe it was just the kids. She’d once stitched him up, when he was thirteen years old and a car had backfired, sending a sonic wave which confused him enough that he’d missed the curb and tripped. He’d angrily brushed off the concerned stranger who tried to help him, and limped home, blood dripping down his leg and pooling in his sock. Maggie hadn’t had a lot to say then, sighing and pushing him into a seat with firm hands. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, punctuating it with a sharp  _ snip. _

Matt snorted. “That would be a waste.”

“A waste would be this wound being a bit deeper, and you bleeding to death in an alley.” She turned and started tidying away her supplies, carrying them to the sink. 

Matt stood and reached for his shirt, turning it right side out and running his fingers over it. The blood around the ragged tear was dry and crackly. He poked two fingers through the hole and wiggled them. Someone shrieked three blocks over, and Matt turned his head sharply to the side, listening hard. The sound dissolved into giggles - a group of friends having fun. He relaxed again, smoothing away a few flakes of blood.

“Matthew.” Maggie was standing close in front of him. He hadn’t noticed her moving closer.

“Hm?”

She walked towards him and reached out, smoothing his hair back from his brow. “You look tired. I said I was here to listen.” Slowly, she pried the shirt from his hands, taking it from him. 

“It’s nothing,” Matt said, sitting down again.

“Sure.”

Matt scrubbed a hand through his hair, pulled his mask from his pocket and smoothed it out on his knee. 

“You still worrying about whether you’re making a difference?” Maggie asked.

“No. I know I am,” Matt said, shaking his head. “It’s more… keeping my head in the game. You know. Not... letting my friends down. Again.”

“This one’s clean,” Maggie said, throwing a bundle of fabric at him.

“Black, I hope,” Matt said, shaking the shirt out pulling it on over his head.

“You know, kiddo,  what matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

Matt froze. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll wash this and sew it up for you. Why don’t you visit me at a reasonable hour, next time? Take me out for afternoon tea.”

**_____**

“You told my mother about Bukowski?” Matt’s glasses were in his pocket, and he narrowed his eyes in an approximation of a hard stare.

“To be fair, I think she’d already heard of him,” Foggy said, shrugging in an overexaggerated way.

“You still haven’t told me  _ why. _ Why, all of a sudden, you’re all trying to make me feel guilty by throwing some old sexist alcoholic’s rantings at me.”

“I don’t need to do anything at all to make you feel guilty. You do that all by yourself. And Theo got rid of his old bed so he didn’t need my copy of  _ Post Office _ to keep the legs level, so he gave it back to me.”

“Please tell me you didn’t start a file of quotes you thought applied to me,” Matt said, giving the stare another go.

“Innocent until proven guilty. Stop trying to hypnotise my dinosaur.”

Matt sighed. “Karen’s coming. Let’s pretend to be busy.”

**_____**

Matt truly did regret this type of injury. It was embarrassing, being so limited by pain that he struggled to do even the basics. He heard Karen’s footfall on the stairs and carefully, so carefully, climbed out of bed, making it to the couch just before she said, “I’m coming in, Matt,” and slid her key into the lock. Matt bit back a groan of pain, and pasted a smile onto his face.

She walked straight to the kitchen, all rustling shopping bags and high heels. “Hey, Karen,” he offered. 

“I didn’t expect to see you out of bed.” Karen put a couple of things in Matt’s near-empty fridge. “Beer?”

“Please.”

She came over, putting the beer on the coffee table passing him his carton and fork, and slipping off her shoes to tuck her feet underneath herself. “Don’t try that face. It makes you look worse, which I didn’t think was possible.” He didn’t think he could reach his beer without her seeing how sore he truly was.

Instead, Matt prodded at his takeout. He was ravenous and it smelled good.

“Foggy’s on a date, so you’ve only got me tonight. Want to watch a movie?”

Matt smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Great. Eat up, then, because you need to be in bed and food doesn’t belong in the bedroom.”

“I’m good here.”

Karen shook her head. “Your couch is not as comfortable as that big, soft bed.”

Matt just rolled his eyes. Karen reached out and patted his knee, and said, “If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.”

Matt stabbed his fork into his take out, and threw up his hand. “Okay, okay, I admit defeat. We can watch in my bed, as long as you don’t quote him any more.”

“It’s a deal,” Karen said, smugly.

**_____**

Matt woke, in searing pain, but it wasn’t going to kill him. He had wondered, the previous night. He certainly wasn’t going to make it to the office today, or maybe tomorrow either.

He picked up his phone to check the time. Late enough that Foggy would be concerned, so he dictated a text: “In the morning it was morning, and I was still alive.” 

Foggy phoned back thirty seconds later. “Buddy, do I need to call an ambulance?” He sounded short of breath.

“I don’t know. Does your chest hurt?”

“An ambulance for you, asshole. How bad is it?”

“Like I said, I’m still alive. But I won’t be in today. I’m sorry, Fog.” Matt pulled the comforter higher, tucking it around his neck.

“Do I need to call Maggie?”

“No.”

“Matty-”

“I said no, Foggy.”

“Fine. But I’m bringing you lunch. And you’d better still be alive.”

“Foggy.”

“Hey, you know, today might be the time to use that Bukowski quote I’ve been saving up.”

“Jesus, Fog, haven’t you used them all up?”

“Oh no, he was a very prolific man. But this one is the best. Are you listening, Matty?”

Matt pressed his face against the pillow and made a vague noise.

“Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.”


End file.
